When the current Editorial Board took over The Edict at the turn of the year, we had outlined our commitment to our readers and this University: “The Edict’s presence is a response to the unfortunate invasion of Ashokan discourse by social media, which has precipitated a move from reading and writing to scrolling and ranting.”
In keeping with our pledge, we bring to you the Mauryan Debates. This shall be a set of 5 One versus One Debates on contemporary campus issues that are polarizing and have been the subject of Facebook debates, dinner table discussions and often heated conversations. The role of a newspaper is to not just report on these matters but also to facilitate discourse, dialogue and dissent. These Debates shall be an opportunity for us to come together as a community and vociferously, yet prudently, partake in public discussion.
The ancient emperor in whose name our University flourishes was a champion of reason, public deliberation and argumentative discourse. The most important of the 4 historic ‘Buddhist Councils’ was organized in the 3rd Century BC, by Emperor Ashoka. These councils didn’t just concern themselves with religious principles but also offered an opportunity for open public discourse. In following with this tradition, and what we consider the responsibilities of a newspaper, we present to you this event.
There shall be no time limit for the speakers. However, they will have to abide by the word limit for pieces submitted to the Opinions Sections: 1000+200 words. All those who are interested will have to register their interest with us ahead of time, and the pieces need to be submitted to us before midnight on Sunday (23rd September).
The motions for the 1st Mauryan Debates are as follows:
“Perfectly abled individuals should not have the right to take the lift to the 1st floor.”
“The proceedings and subsequent results of cases being tried by the Committee Against Sexual Harassment (CASH) should not be confidential.”
“A Student Government is futile at Ashoka University.”
“Are Ashoka’s students worthy of Emperor Ashoka’s ideals?”
“Ashoka University as an idea has failed.”
On the 24th of September, Monday, the Multi Purpose Hall in the Academic Bloc shall transfigure into our very own Agora. We expect one and all to join us embodying the greek spirit of ἀγορεύω (‘Speaking in Public’), while staying true to the spirit of tolerance, parley and hearkening that Ashoka stood for.
“Concord therefore is meritorious, to wit, hearkening and hearkening willingly to the law of piety as accepted by other people. For it is the desire of his Sacred Majesty that adherents of all sects should hear much teaching and hold sound doctrine.”
– Emperor Ashoka, Major Rock Edict XII.
Apply here to participate in the debate! You could also write to us at edict@ashoka.edu.in.
When ‘Facts are not Facts’ activism is confused as radicalism
By Gaurav Nandan Tripathi, (Undergraduate Class of 2020).
The Oxford Dictionary declared the word ‘Post-Truth’ as the ‘Word of the Year 2016’, after an increase of about 2000% was seen in the usage of the term. Its use became pretty common during the American elections in which Trump emerged as the victor. The term ‘post-truth’ is used more in the political context than anything. In ‘post-truth’ politics, debates are framed more by emotions, rather than actual policy-oriented discussions and factual substance. The point which is being advocated will be repeated again and again in spite of factual rebuttals. Expert and informed opinions are secondary to emotions.
Descartes comes to Ashoka.
This kind of situation is mirrored in India and most of the world today. With the completion of four years of the BJP government, it is more and more evident how most of the political decisions today are more based on emotional impulse than strategic planning. Demonetisation is the first example which must come to everyone’s mind. The step was taken in haste, and Modi riding on the emotional and sensitive support of a major population of the country, kept advocating the decision which was flawed in its reason and implementation. Its intention was clear, but the implications weren’t considered while taking the decision. It’s a classic example of the era of post-truth, where a populist leader takes a big misleading step, and is backed by the emotions of people rather than their rationality. The decision is advocated again and again, while the goals are dodgy and remain fluid to change. People are asked by the leaders to suffer for their country for a temporary period, and the cycle continues. Today, we actually know what the decision was: a failure.
In fact, the side-effects of the post-truth era are not limited to policy decision. Nationalism and Patriotism are being used today as an excuse to criminalise dissent leading to the spread of belligerent public jingoism which is blurring the distinction between activism and radicalism in the minds of the masses. Voices against the government are being seen as voices against the Indian state. Dissent is seen as treason. These phenomena confirm how politics riding on emotions (of the majority or any particular ideology) flirts with dangerous majoritarian psychology of the nation and its people.
This situation is more ominous than it seems. In complexly diverse societies like India, it materialises the already existing differences between people. It creates fault lines between groups, where tremors of intolerance against each other’s existence rock the very foundation of the Indian state. The overwhelming voluptuousness of intolerance and hate in people, not only in India but all around the world, is being legitimised by the post-truth politics in the world today.
Recent arrests of five social activists in India is the most recent example of the cruelty which this era of politics brings along with it. When someone like Vivek Agnihotri calls “facts are not facts”, he is basically indicating the ‘fact’ that he’ll not believe what other wants to say. He’ll only believe what he feels is his right. Something similar was said by Rudy Giuliani (Trump’s attorney) when he remarked that “truth is not truth”. It is the typical reply which anyone who has to hide the truth will tell you. These are all the things which constitute the culture of post-truth. Half truths, concealed realities and a veneer of confidence; these are the axioms of living in a post truth era. The Ashokan space is also not free of its impact. The highly confident arguments in the debates (both in public and private sphere at Ashoka) are mostly based on shaky premises. Under the facade of the bourgeoisie english, emotions and sentiments are suppressed the rationality of arguments. These kind of things are the side-effects of living in an age, where opinions supercede a platonic sense of truth in the public discourse. Only our conscious and informed precautions and awareness can prevent us from being a victim of not only others, but sometimes even ourselves.
However, the saddest part is that the end of such an era is nowhere in sight. With emotions subverting rationality, and demagoguery being celebrated; we have entered the heydays of the post-truth era. Its inception is known and has been analysed at depth in letter and video; but it’s continuation brings ominous signs for societies and communities across the world today.
In the first piece by the Research Wing of the Edict, we explore the evolution of an infamous illegal shack outside Ashoka University, and the lure of catering to university students, in the village.
By Urvin Soneta (Founding Class), Sparsh Agarwal (Class of 2019), and Zainab G. Firdausi (Class of 2019).
On 23 August, 150 students from Jindal University were detained by officers from Rai PS in a “rave” party at a guest house called Anjani. Only a few days after the incident, on 28 August, the administration of Ashoka University issued caveats to students regarding venturing to illegal establishments outside campus, and how this maybe grounds for disciplinary action.
Both Ashoka and Jindal are located in and around Rajiv Gandhi Education City, an ambitious project by the previous state government to create a hub for universities in the Delhi NCR region. And although the project is laudable, its creators, perhaps, did not pay much heed to the context and location in which they were going to be placing students aged 18–25. Often feeling shut-up and fatigued within the four walls of their campuses, students have begun venturing out to unwind, and this how they end up in places such at Anjani.
Every Thursday night students start lining up at the gate to leave campus for the shacks outside.
Ashoka was set up in 2014 by a coterie of philanthropists and industrialists who desired to create a premier liberal arts University for Indian students. In the backdrop of this aspiring young university, there exist the aspirations of others nearby. The ambitious shadow of Haryana lurks; it’s fuelled by the desire to capitalise on the phenomenal urbanisation and migration taking place in Sonipat; wishing to cash in on any Indian college student’s obvious necessities: “juice, milk, and brownies” (euphemisms used by the owner of the shack to refer to the alcohol, cigarettes, and marijuana that was sold by him in our interview with him).
This is a tale of rising “confectionary shops” (another euphemisms used by the owner to refer to his outfit), rival groups, and the economies of vice.
In Sonipat, Thursdays nights are the new Friday nights. “So, what’s the scene?” is now the most popular phrase featuring any conversation post classes on Thursdays. It is with these words that students at Ashoka begin planning their evening of indulgence.
In the Summer of 2017, three years after the University opened, the first “confectionary shop” was set up 400 meters from the entrance of the University near the nearby Asawarpur village by a duo of brothers: Tonu* and Tohit*. Tonu, a former employee at Ashoka is in his early 20s, a student at Delhi University by day and businessman by night. ‘Tonu’s Sutta Point (SSP)’* was the first entrant into the lucrative ‘juice business’ in Sonipat last year. The opening of the campus had already brought a theka (alcohol shop) and a cigarette shop to the vicinity, but as Tonu recounts, “The students wanted to have ‘juice’ and ‘cakes’ late at night at a place that wasn’t far away and offered comfort. I offered it to them”. One can only speculate whether having worked inside the Ashoka Campus transformed Tonu’s entrepreneurial vision or not.
Tonu recounts that the immediate success of his “confectionary shops” was largely because of his own “goodwill” among students. Across the road from Tonu’s shack there’s a police headquarters under construction, and he doesn’t yet have a license for his shop. However, his goodwill extends to the local police as well. Tonu admits that his “juices” are overpriced but that his establishment thrives on the loyalty of his customers. Nonetheless, the loyalty of his customers was soon to be tested with new entrants into this highly competitive market.
Tonu’s success in the “juice” business opened up an unrealised market for the local community of Sonipat — one which had high risks, but proportionate returns. With a small initial investment and not too many costs (mainly rent for the land and the music- speakers and wages for his employees), Tonu had created a brandname for himself. He also created animosity, and jealousy, which was soon going to start a vicious cycle of violence, corruption, involvement of gangsters and ruthless business decisions.
Three months after SSP opened, a local from Asawarpur, Tunil*, decided to open his own “confectionary shop” across from Tonu’s. This competitor had local village support, muscle to flex, and a definite sense of humour (or just poor creativity), as was evident by the ‘original’ name that he picked for his establishment as well: ‘Tunil’s Sutta Point’(SSP)*. With a grand opening, and by offering free “juice, tea, and milk”, Tunil tried to rope in Tonu’s customer base. However, what started as a competitive market of vices where the students were just beginning to gain due to plummeting prices, soon saw an intervention from the village.
About the time of Diwali, Tonu and his brother Tohit were assaulted by a group of local villagers who demanded that they leave. They had found out that Tonu was from the village of Rai; and the relations between Rai and Asawarpur were like “India-Pakistan”, Tonu explained. Tohit was admitted into the ICU, Tonu was only slightly better, and the original SSP shack had to temporarily close its shutters. Tunil now had the monopoly, and he intended to keep it. However, soon another “juice shop” opened up beside Tunil’s- “Tonny’s”*. This time, Tunil faced competition from within the village.
Meanwhile, Tonu initiated charges against his competitors for the assault while completing his education at the Sri Guru Tegh Bahadur Khalsa College in Delhi. It was at the time of Ashoka’s annual fest in February that he decided to return to Sonipat. In one move, Tonu had retaken control of the juice business in Sonepat pushing out Tunil and assuaging village animosities.
A glimpse from inside SSP on one of its most lucrative nights: before college shut for the summer.
Tonu has worked out a successful partnership with Tonny, a local from Asawarpur, who has accepted him claiming that Tonu is not really from Rai, since his father was from another village. He now works in conjunction with the village panchayat (with whom Tonny has good relations). Occasionally, the police visit. However, Tonu claims that the sphere of influence Tonny now casts prevents them from creating any problems for him or his customers. However, this newfound legacy hasn’t impressed all. “This is just a mafia group”, as one of the security guards on campus recounts.
Tonu has fought off pressure from the University to close down his “juice and confectionary shop”. He looks upon himself as someone who is creating employment opportunities for the village of Asawarpur while also benefiting those like Taveen* who sells cigarette and tea across the road from his shop.
As the 2018 Spring Semester was coming to an end, the saga for control over Sonepat’s Economy of Vice stood such that Tonu’s Sutta Point was owned by Tonny, and managed by Tonu. The latter’s goodwill was soaring, credibility was secure and margins were increasing. On a good Thursday night he would make profits upwards of Rs. 30,000. For him, business was booming, while he planned to expand. In April, the second branch opened up close to the O. P. Jindal University: ‘SSP WestHouse’.
SSP’s doors remain shut all day and night now
And while he had expressed hopes to open a “chain of ‘confectionary shops” in Rajiv Gandhi Education City, there seem to be no signs of him recently. The SSP shack has not been open on Thursday nights in the past two months, with one exception in July. It has been two Thursdays since undergraduate students have returned to campus, yet there seems to be no sign of shutters going up. The abrupt closure has forced students to party on the road by the theka, something which is not nearly as glamorous as SSP. The closing maybe due to pressure from college authorities, village politics, or sheer fear after the debacle at Anjani. But with a comeback story as daring as his, one can be sure Tonu will return. The real question is how the second act to the saga of the most entrepreneurial business venture in Sonipat will be written.
*Names have been changed.
Urvin Soneta is a former Undergraduate Student who was in the Founding Batch. Sparsh Agarwal is the Managing Editor of the Opinions Section at The Edict. Zainab Firdausi is Managing Editor of the News Section at The Edict.
Based on interviews with ‘Tonu’,Taveen, and Ashoka’s Security Team.
When I graduated from Ashoka University just over a year ago, I was looking forward to my very first professional full-time working experience. Armed with a diverse group of knowledge sets, I felt ready to take on the world. The jolt that I received when I started working, though, told another story.
Students at Ashoka are usually captivated by lectures, and so was I. Learning about the variety of subjects opened my mind to a world of new possibilities, and showed me the vast crevasses that exist in this world of knowledge. As my knowledge-base sifted through the holes of deep analysis and questioning, secrets began to get revealed, and I started seeing the world more clearly.
Such a knowledge-base is extremely helpful when writing an academic paper, or during casual discussions, but how can one envision using such knowledge in an entrenched corporation, like a multi-national bank? This question; how can liberal arts be reconciled with decades-worth of entrenched capitalistic principles, is one that is still sought-after today. Some fault the corporations for being close-minded, and others fault the academic institutions for setting their students on the path of academia, supposedly outside the realm of the “real world”. So, the question of whether Ashoka has helped me in my workplace deals with this divergence. But, is this divergence necessary? It is not, according to me.
My time at Ashoka certainly helped me a lot: when you learn about philosophy, literature, mathematics, history, psychology, and economics, you not only acquire a varied skill-set, but you, more importantly, learn to accept a multiplicity of opinions and viewpoints. You learn to interact with an interdisciplinary crowd, one that is crisscrossing onto each other’s learning paths. You imbibe tolerance, respect, and patience. Ashoka also taught me the art of writing, communicating, understanding, and listening. This came about from my interactions with my peers, professors, and through the back-and-forth, I had with the multitude of disciplines that were on offer. However, I will concede that communicating with my peers was a whole lot simpler because they were subject to an education that was very similar to mine. This is where I feel Ashoka has fallen short.
Interacting and enacting tolerance when communicating with someone who is an entrenched by-product of the Indian society, I feel, is a completely different matter altogether. The ‘Ashoka Quest’ project was proposed to bridge this particular gap, but that fell through, unfortunately.
Speaking personally, Ashoka also did not help me get acclimated with the life of a corporate job, in terms of the mundane and monochromatic nature of the work one has to perform, as I discovered when I entered this world. I feel that someone who would have come from another background, say a B.B.A. graduate, would have been better prepared than I was. It could have been my fault as well, though, as I myself had never experienced such a work culture through an internship. It could also, however, be due to the divergence between liberal arts and the entrenched moneyed enterprises.
In conclusion, I feel that Ashoka should focus on bridging these objectives. If the university is falling short, I would suggest the students take this up themselves. When I used to travel back home during my time at Ashoka, I was always met with an unfamiliarity and a wandering sense of being. These are the emotions that my fellow batch-mates are going through after graduating this year. This is normal for an Ashoka student; bridging the gap between the liberal arts and the Indian society, not to mention the ‘corporate’ life, was never going to be an easy task, and the university has some way to go on that front. Are we, however, equipped enough for the tantalizing journey ahead of all of us? Ashoka has definitely made sure that we are.
Yash is a member of the Founding Undergraduate batch of Ashoka University, where he majored in Economics. After graduating, he worked with Citibank for 10 months. He is now an Editor at The Indian Express in New Delhi. His hobbies include fitness, sports, cooking, travelling and nature. Reach out to him at yashbudhwar@yahoo.com
The second Pro-Vice-Chancellor writes on his introduction to Ashoka University.
My first days at Ashoka are in August 2017. The heat envelops me like a wall whenever I’m outdoors.
I walk past the Dhaba every evening to get to the faculty residences. The tables are buzzing with conversation.
I’m woken up at 2 am one night by the bright lights outside my bedroom window and the muted sounds of cheering. It turns out that there’s a match being played at the football field just adjoining the faculty residence building.
Rushing home from work at 9:45 pm one evening to grab a quick dinner and then rushing out again to participate in a quiz competition at 10:30 pm. My team comes second.
So my first take: the real action at Ashoka takes place in the late hours of the night.
It’s Friday evening, week 2 of my life in Ashoka. I’m told a prominent but provocative politician has been invited to meet the students on campus on Saturday morning. Who’s meeting him? What arrangements have been made, I ask. The students know, I’m told.
Pictured: Mr. Sankar Krishnan
Already, some students and activists are staging protests. In the meantime, the politician has tweeted about his visit to Ashoka, so there’s no hope of keeping it nice and low key. I recall being narrated an incident in previous years that left politicians annoyed, the students feeling mutinous, and the administration seriously worried about the potential fallout.
So now I feel the true weight of the responsibility that’s unwittingly been thrust upon me — there’s no senior faculty or admin on campus apart from me, and my experience in reining in opinionated young people is limited to small groups. I work out a strategy with the student committee whom I’ve got to know a little; they communicate to the students that the politician is a guest, an invitee, and we need to show respect even as we disagree. During the actual interaction, students are open and vocal about their differences in opinion, but the incident passes without any bloodshed, and I heave a sigh of relief.
Take number two: I am really impressed that the students have enough maturity to express dissent, yet give due respect to someone with an opposing point of view.
I also need to deal with everyday challenges. __________________________________________________________________
Everyday challenge: Example 1
An email from a student marked to 20 people ranging from admin to the founders:
Admin,
The hot water on my floor has not been working properly for the last month. Please take up this issue seriously as I have been put to serious discomfort. I am supposed to be focusing on my course and not on the most basic amenity. I have been complaining about this to various people but NO ONE LISTENS!
I attend an off-site where each of the departments chalk out their agenda for the year. I’m blown away by the research some of the faculty is currently working on, and their plans for taking it all to the next level.
I see students hanging out with faculty after office hours, discussing, debating, challenging, and listening. It looks like a healthy relationship.
People complain about the problem of stray dogs in India. Some of our students have adopted dogs that live on the road just outside the campus. Everyday, they take turns to feed and play with them.
One of these students gets bitten by a dog they’ve adopted. Anxious parents call, worried at what their child has to suffer, and complain about the menace of stray dogs. The student gets an anti-rabies vaccine but continues to look after the dogs. This also serves to make them realize that they need to do more than just feed and pet them in order to ensure that the dogs have a healthy and happy life. The dogs are all taken for an anti-rabies vaccine. Any diseases are treated by the vet. Some problems remain of course, even as I write this, but now the dogs are fed, vaccinated, and petted.
Take number three: that these young people are sometimes reckless, but they are young people with heart.
Amidst all these different student concerns, there’s no escaping the fact that 70% of what I do is on other, equally urgent, issues. Apart from the routine administration, admissions, communication and finance, I work over the best part of two weeks, together with colleagues, both junior and senior, in administration as well as faculty, on the strategic plan for the university over the next five years. Then there is the process of preparing a plan to increase the diversity of the student population: to bring in students who may be facing some challenges, and thinking through how best to support them. I work on putting together a new organizational model to increase collaboration, but also greater performance orientation, while increasing the transparency of assessments. We evaluate an algorithm to calculate the number of classrooms needed. I work with the architects and project team in the context of the look and feel of the new block and campus coming up.
I start working on career support to students and am a little alarmed, first, at the pickiness of the students, and second, contradictorily, at the same time, at the overarching sense of worry among the students, that they would not get placed.
The admissions process at Ashoka is painstaking and the students are hand-picked; on campus, they are encouraged to question received wisdom and follow their own path. Which is a wonderful thing, but it does mean that sometimes jobs that are perceived to lack zing don’t excite them. One of India’s large prestigious companies turns up for a pre-placement talk where only 6 students show up. We are red-faced with embarrassment at the fiasco.
I find that many of the best companies in India, once we communicate with them, are quite keen to interact with the students, given their quality and the reputation that Ashoka already has. The question is how do we translate that keenness to them actually coming down to campus, and when they come down, how do we ensure that students show up for these interactions, and the companies understand from the enthusiasm of the students that in fact, hiring from Ashoka is a great idea.
I then work closely with a few volunteer/chosen students from the ASPs and YIFs to plan recruiting by companies. During the process of our interactions, there is an ‘aha’ moment when they realize that we need to work together on placements, make sure we know which are the most preferred companies that the students want, and go actively after them, and since it’s not going to be easy to persuade the companies to come, make sure that when they do come, we put our best foot forward to convince them to hire from us.
One of the more favoured companies suddenly announces that they would come for a discussion with the students in the middle of the Christmas holidays. It’s a much earned break for the students, who’ve been working hard all semester long. The placement committee takes charge. They get people to delay their break and to show up for key pre placement talks, even though many had already booked tickets. Even students who were not keen on the company or had already got placed turn up to make sure the companies carried home a good impression of the campus.
Yet another take: It’s inspiring to see the selflessness of the PlaceCom students in trying to get jobs for their peers, going well above and beyond the call of mere duty.
When I look back at the last semester, I realize that I am floored by the students. They’re an argumentative, opinionated bunch, sometimes with no sense of perspective, I think, when I get a long chain of emails on some trivial issue. But their hearts are usually in the right place.
They certainly are the most interesting part of my day.
Mr. Sankar Krishnan is the second Pro-Vice Chancellor at Ashoka University. He assumed the position on 16 August 2017. Prior to joining Ashoka University, Mr. Krishnan was a partner at McKinsey India and then later a private consultant.
Rohan Parikh (Junior Correspondent at Free Press Pvt. Ltd.)
Fake Lies is a satire series about Ashokan life and culture (or lack thereof).
Illustration by Ketaki Mathur (For representational purposes only)
It is late February and lovelorn Hoshak University is eagerly awaiting the second edition of its beloved annual fest- Ranjaana. Conceptualised two years ago as a solution to the ‘stagnation crisis’ that has engulfed the campus, the fest is expected to help retain a sense of normalcy in the student body.
Two years since the inception of Hoshak University, the Administration noticed an increasing difficulty for the students to remain satiated with life on campus. The extravagant facilities, the vast range of food options and even the fluid residence access policy seemed inadequate, for students sought the ultimate freedom — the kind one finds only on the other side of the electric fences.
A staff member of the Administration put it succinctly, “Ever since its inception, Hoshak has been painfully aware of its seclusion from the real world. Everything stagnates, and predictably. Everything ‘is the same’ here — the buildings, the trees, the people, the conversations, even the form and content of outrage. You can definitely have too much of this place.”
This stagnation gave birth to several problems. Chief among them was the erratic attendance for lectures, reluctance to stay for the ‘fourth year’ (the Almost Settled Programme,ASP), haphazard graffiti on walls and perhaps most notoriously, the birth of two local distilleries (allegedly run by twins) situated right outside campus.
The administration even received an anonymous note from an English Major who was evidently fond of Yeats. It simply said, “Students are falling apart; the Administration cannot hold.”
After long deliberation, a solution was devised, one which would effectively burst the bubble without actually having the students leave campus.
Put simply, Ranjaana is one big metaphor. The fest secretary explained the driving idea behind the fest. “It’s obvious; Hoshakans are adventurers by heart. They want to be free. And what better way to realise that freedom when you’re stuck in a tiny campus than to organise an entire fest that conjures the illusion of travel?”
Genius.
On a twenty — five acre campus, Ranjaana’s Organising Group (OG) marks out ‘zones’ — various spots around the Frisbee field that students can travel to in order to experience different foods, games, and people — giving the campus a whole new feel where students can ‘discover passion and explore purpose’ — as the Hoshakan motto spells out.
The implications of this are far-reaching. On the first count, the Administration believes Ranjaana can help minimise the problem of the ‘weekend dissidents’. These are the people who leave campus on the weekends, causing those who stay behind to feel exceptionally trapped. The OG, if successful in creating a strong and lasting metaphor, could persuade the weekend dissidents not to leave, since, after all, ‘travel is right here’.
Secondly, Ranjaana is expected to be a great outreach endeavour. “The indicator,” says an OG member, “of the success of the fest will be the number of applicants from other universities who apply for admission here, convinced that the ‘real world’ is not in the grimy streets outside, but right here, in Hoshak.”
The ‘outsiders’, in fact, will only fuel the illusion, since Hoshakans will not only see new faces on campus, they will do so as they travel. The possibilities of chance encounters, a concept almost alien despite the size of the campus, will be rekindled.
The coming weekend is expected to be one of fun, frolic, and adventure. Hoshakans will realise that lives of people of the outside world and their Instagram feeds (unlike the average Hoshakan’s), are not necessarily consistent. This is expected to create a sense of ‘authenticity’ among the students, as opposed to the ‘fake-ness’ of the outside world and its people.
In sum: the Hoshakan spirit will soar.
Every fest deserves a good run-up to the event. Anticipation and excitement is largely a product of good marketing. The organisers of this fest know this all too well. This season, they managed to create an air of great mystery around it to garner curiosity. So much so that up until two weeks ago everyone was left wondering if the fest was even happening?
The OG, however, has promised us that it is. Several students have ‘begun packing their backpacks’ in eager anticipation of the fest. They look forward to taking a trip down memory lane and rediscovering the campus. Evidently, the metaphor is a success.
An excited first-year undergraduate excitedly told us about her excitement about the fest. “Like, everyone said it was great last year. Apparently, it was like a private party. Very few outsiders. But, like, they say this year will be different. I don’t mind much, I guess. I could get used to having a bunch of people on campus. I’ll know what it’ll be like when the new batch comes in. God, I can’t even imagine…”
The undersecretary of the fest revealed her hopes for the successful execution of the fest.
“As of now, Ranjaana is our one hope to maintain peace of mind on campus. Such adventure — crazed behaviour, if not channelled properly, can be disastrous. It’s alright if Hoshakans think outside the box and whatever, but they must eventually learn to be content with the box they’re living in.”
The Free Press hopes Ranjaana proves to be the force that settles the matter once and for all.
Rohan Parikh is a humble creation of society and its many conventions. He has followed norms ardently and to the best of his abilities- so much so that sometimes the banality of the world feels all too real. He can’t help but laugh; He wants others to get in on the joke.
Esther David, Batch of 2020 and Charuvi Lokare, Batch of 2019
In November 2017, Charuvi Lokare and Prachi Palod started Kintsugi: the Mental Health Engagement Initiative. They formed a team, and now seven dedicated students are working to engage the entire student body of Ashoka in a healthy conversation about mental wellbeing. Below, Esther and Charuvi, members of Kintsugi, tell us about the idea and inception of this initiative.
‘Kintsugi’ or ‘kintsukuroi’ is a Japanese practice of repairing broken pottery or vessels by filling the cracks with gold and joining broken pieces together. The philosophy behind this practice is to embrace the object with all its flaws and imperfections. It acknowledges that the vessel is not useless even after being broken. In fact, the cracks are only made more prominent and beautiful in the process of repairing it with gold.
The symbolism of ‘Kintsugi’ to human life is one hard to miss. Kintsugi reminds us that it is okay (and necessary, even) to feel broken as long as we can embrace this brokenness without shame and with honesty. We all have our cracks and perceived weaknesses, which we try our hardest to hide. What we don’t realise is that even after every fall and every scar, we still survive, whether victorious or barely scraping by. Our survival, like Kintsugi, is evidence that we are worthy of respect and love no matter what we have been through. The metaphor that Kintsugi stands for assured us that there couldn’t be a worthier name for ourinitiative.
Today, talking about mental health is often followed by groans, awkward silences, or forced sympathy. However, at Ashoka, we like to believe that we are too intelligent, too well-aware and too sensitive for this norm to be applicable to us. If this is true, then why do students at Ashoka constantly stress about workload? Why do we miss breakfast almost seven days a week? Why on weekends it is so difficult for us to leave our beds or even engage in any form of social interactions?
We, at Kintsugi, put on our conspiracy theorist hats and suggest that this is because we have forgotten how to be children again. Let’s go back to being 5 for a moment: how did your parents make you feel better when you were upset? Did they take you to a new place, give you a chocolate or offer you a warm hug? In retrospect, we are not far from these 5-year-old versions of ourselves. We still get upset over tiny things, crave for attention and absolutely love it when we eat our favourite food. Often, it’s a little more than a chocolate or a tight hug that helps us feel better again, but eventually, we do find ways, things or people that do. The bottom line is that we are still those same vulnerable kids beneath our 18-year old independent, intellectual, responsible selves — then why do we stop thinking about how we can be nice to ourselves?
It’s easy to forget how ‘mental health’ pervades our everyday lives and how it’s not just restricted to clinics or Tumblr self-care articles. While it certainly takes more than a couple of years to break the stigma that surrounds psychological wellbeing, we are here to give it a try. Let’s start by saying this: everyone faces mental health issues at some point in time. They may be mild, such as stress on days closer to finals week; they are also serious, such as chronic anxiety disorders or depression. It is imperative that we learn to deal with these issues in a healthy manner; after all, building a relationship with ourselves should be one of our top priorities. This is exactly what our initiative aims to achieve, a robust conversation about mental health and the spectrum of issues that fall within it.
In an environment where people are always pressed for time, it was heartening to see the response we got for our first two movie screenings and our stall at the Winter Haat. Our movie screening discussions brought mental health perspectives from different people across batches, and our stall — with free hugs, positive quotes and a whiteboard on self-love — made so many people smile and think about what self-love means for them. We are very grateful for your engagement with Kintsugi. This is our first semester as an unregistered society and we are evolving. We would appreciate any and all inputs, ideas, excitement, among other things to keep this initiative moving. There are endless opportunities for bettering mental health on campus and we wish to take up as many as possible.
Follow Kintsugi on Facebook and Instagram to keep up with their initiatives.
Revolution is overrated. Ashokan politics needs a new way to associate itself with the voters.
Rohan Parikh, Class of 2019
The fourth year of the election cycle at Ashoka University, and already the candidates are promising a zestful return to the politics ‘of old’, where students had faith in the House of Representatives (HoR) and elections shone with the halo of honey and sunshine.
As is the case with each election cycle, this time too there was talk about a ‘stunning lack’ of representation, accountability, transparency, and efficiency. Candidates are convinced there is ‘something’ at stake; unfortunately, they seem unable to articulate it. So they resort to beating the tired old drum of revolution, of a utopian Ashoka that lives by utopian Ashokan ideals.
Inferno
The Election Commission had promised the audience a riveting first debate. And they delivered. The Candidate Debate was a mess. President of Bringing Justice to the People (BJP), Srishti Bansal, lost her composure and abused the Election Commission (EC). Members of other parties, the Independent Bloc and independent candidates took cheap shots at BJP. The EC repeatedly either forgot to acknowledge independent candidate Kanan Gupta’s presence or mistook him for independent (and absent) candidate Vihaan Singh.
Aap ke Ummeedwaar — The First Debate
Whether BJP was a joke or not was the central concern addressed in the debate. A host of other issues were brought onto the table (admittedly in a sincere spirit but received with mockery), the most memorable one being the introduction of mini-thalis, proposed by independent candidate Akash Kumar. A community solution to allowing students to consume alcohol illegally without getting into trouble was proposed by BJP. ‘Ethnic day’ was Moksh’s solution to a concern about the lack of knowledge of people’s diversity and backgrounds on campus.
There was a poignant moment when Shivam Sahu raised the question of inclusivity and pointed to the caste and economic discrimination that undergirds relations between individuals on campus. Unfortunately, but expectedly, the moment was cheered, appropriated into a few remarks, and then forgotten, for the show must go on.
Halfway through the debate, it seemed the winner of the night would not be those who attempted meaningful debate; rather those who stayed more composed than BJP. In that respect, Prakrit owned the night. It maintained a dignified silence through most of the debate, speaking sparsely and only to the point. But this negative victory only conferred to them the moral high ground, which is a far cry from displaying actual ability.
The audience too was as much part of the problem as were the candidates. Precious time was wasted in getting them to calm down. Rhetorical battles ensued and were quelled. Election Commissioner Anirudh Pisharam summarised the dominant sentiment of the night when he bid everyone a good night and promised an even more interesting event three days hence- the Presidential Debate. He may not have meant it in a disingenuous spirit, but the message that came across was painfully clear: It was the dusk of Ashokan politics.
Purgatorio
Come Monday night, Dr. Reddy’s auditorium was packed with people ready for what many feared would be a reenactment of last week. The new moderator Apuroop Sethupathy stepped up to the role with one purpose: to make this debate as informative and comprehensive, in other words, as boring, as possible.
Perhaps some people were disappointed by the lack of fervor in the speeches. Candidates actually spoke intelligibly. They raised issues of varying importance and when asked about the conduct of their parties in the previous debate, were surprisingly (and thankfully) insightful and penitent. Let’s try and forget that night, they said. The old adage- nothing ever happens on campus- is to be preferred if the alternative is the embarrassing event they orchestrated.
The Presidential Debate, moderated by Apuroop Sethupathy
What followed in the Presidential Debate, however, must not be judged in comparison to the first debate. Our umeedwaars spoke of a host of administrative issues, ranging from air purifiers to sports equipment to an improved structure for sex education for students. Critical issues like mental health and sexual harassment were mentioned.
Yet, all of this was not quite adequate. Pervasive ignorance on some critical issues was brought to light. The most uncomfortable five minutes of the debate was when fourth-year undergraduate Akash Megh Sharma bluntly asked the candidates about their stance on affirmative action regarding caste-based admission at Ashoka.
The fact that Sethupathy had to repeatedly explain what exactly the question intended to do, and even what affirmative action amounted to, said a lot about the candidates’ knowledge of the problem itself. The answers/solutions proposed ranged from ignorance about the issue to a flat-out rejection to an acknowledgment of not having discussed the issue before to be able to do justice to the question.
There were other times in the debate when candidates were ignorant of the policies that were already in place. Provisions of the Committee Against Sexual Harassment (CASH) were not well known among the candidates; they had simply forgotten to do their homework.
And then there is the issue that goes well beyond manifestos and ‘party ideologies’, (whatever that means when all the parties take the same stand on issues):
Moksh suffered from the problem of inexperience and airy rhetoric that senior undergraduates saw right through as reminiscent of each freshman batches’ fantastical approach to politics at Ashoka. BJP for all its promises and hopes succeeded in marshaling a string of rhetoric that amounts to little. How the Independent Bloc is not a political party was not entirely clear- something they have been at pains to define, but somehow failing at. Prakrit stood on the safer side of revolution. It said all the right things at all the right times in all the right ways. No more, no less. But also: no farther, no deeper.
Independent candidates Sumedha Suresh and Kanan Gupta raised concerns about sexual harassment and breach of online privacy respectively. Akash Kumar proposed plantation drives and lunch carriers, among other things. When questioned how these problems required the HoR specifically to solve, only Suresh and Kumar chose to respond. They said it was simply the case that issues were ‘taken more seriously’ if the government raised them. Seriously.
Paradiso?
Ashokan politics could be at a fork in the road, and the road less traveled will make all the difference. But that would presuppose it to have left home in the first place. The path would be ill served if it is paved with rhetoric.
The question of ‘reviving’ ideals does not arise when they’ve never been implemented in the first place. Neither the zealous yet inexperienced freshmen nor the ‘wise’ but indifferent senior undergraduates can do something meaningful for themselves and the campus if they do not cooperate.
If there is one thing that each candidate mentioned in different ways, that goes to the heart of Ashokan politics, it is that for real and effective solutions, real knowledge about life on campus must be sought. The experiences of all eleven hundred undergraduates must be heard. Solutions don’t necessarily have to be revolutionary- they can simply be concise and helpful. “Uprooting the system” and being “done with this s*it” requires knowing what the aforementioned s*it is actually comprised of, how it came to be defined in such unpropitious terms and whether we’re interested in solutions; or is it merely a political platitude, to be used over and over and over?
To the voters: There are real issues and there are real solutions. There are good, hardworking people across party lines. They’re not perfect, but they can be molded. The onus is upon you to choose representatives who will run the long mile. Knowing that, the first mistake you can make is to not vote. The second mistake you can make is to vote frivolously. The third mistake you can make is to not hold accountable those who do get elected.
Better a cynic who voted than a rebel who abstained. Everyone is involved in this job — let’s do it right.
Rohan Parikh is in his second year at Ashoka University. Views are personal.
I had previously thought of writing a critique of all candidates’ manifestos except the events of last night don’t deem that effort worthwhile anymore.
Aarushi Aggarwal, Batch of 2018
After last night’s less than impressive and rather disappointing Candidates’ Debate, one thing has become quite clear: Ashoka’s politics looks a lot like Indian politics. Apart from the shoe hurling, all else was accomplished: shouting, screeching, unparliamentary language, crying, storming off and an awkward walk/dance/jumping jacks — I can’t figure which — across the stage. Needless to say, it was no elegant affair; the element of solemnity that marks the event of elections was grossly amiss — and missed — replaced by a mockery of the election system and very obviously of the candidates themselves.
Presidential Candidate for the ‘BJP’, Srishti Bansal, in the midst of her outburst at the candidates debate ‘Aap ke Umeedwar’
I had previously thought of writing a critique of all candidates’ manifestos except the events of last night don’t deem that effort worthwhile anymore. After the show put on last night, who can say that manifestos, or even these elections are a serious affair. The rationale, or lack thereof, that has gone into the candidates’ campaign has me baffled. While some resort to trolling, the others quite literally started as a joke and imagine that somehow by co-opting a present serving member of the House as their Presidential candidate, they will magically be everyone’s primary choice for the House. Even this Representative, if I may, was less than respectful to the process. In last year’s debates, the candidates were not known to hold their tongue. Apparently the success of the methods last year warranted a greater show this year, much to the chagrin of a lot of audience members. The said representative trolled their own party, claiming that before they were brought in, it lacked organisation and seriousness. Perhaps, a book or two on campaigning strategies will not be placed for the worse in their party meetings.
I will not limit my criticism to the appalling behaviour of the candidates. A greater lack was perhaps that of intellect. The debates were devoid, completely bereft of, any organised thought whatsoever (save a couple of candidates) to the extent that a group of individuals who have organised themselves into a party, with a party list, in an election designed on a party list system, claim that they are merely independent candidates who are giving the electorate the chance to elect six individuals — not a party — by actually voting for their party. Their reason for this odd political setup is based on the false claim that the House votes along party lines. If they had shown up for even one House meeting, they would have seen otherwise.
Prakrit put up one of the more stable presentations last night. Although the speakers are novices themselves, they have the benefit of the aegis of some older members of not just the House, but also the Undergraduate community. Moreover, the two speakers from the party — the only two candidates that I can account for — have actually attended House meetings and therefore understand what it entails. Unlike Prakrit the other new party around the block, in many ways, mirrors the other party that had come up just before the elections last year, which is now defunct and whose members lost interest in being representatives less than half way through their term exemplified by their abysmal attendance records and lack of attention (being lavished on course readings instead) during meetings. While I cannot make predictions for Moksh, I certainly hope that their service in the House will be of a higher quality than their memes.
The independent candidates, on the other hand, completely misunderstood the purpose of elections. I suppose nobody gave them the memorandum of what House of Representative elections, campaigning and speeches are. While only two candidates had clear agendas, everybody’s speeches were mired by inaccuracy and passionate rants with less than credible solutions. Somehow, there is a misplaced view that entry to the House is a means for candidates to push forth their personal agenda, and not what they believe to be the requirement of the undergraduate community. However, elections are not about choosing a person with the best vision or ideals, it is about choosing a person with realistic goals and a work ethic that can achieve them. This is perhaps my greatest worry from yesterday’s debate: apart from the general lack of quality, the very conception of democracy has been muddled with some weird form of humor and aimless political drama.
Following the example of the American elections from 2016, all we have can do is choose from among the lesser of the many evils. Responsibility is on us, as the electorate, to find the 15 candidates who can somehow constitute a House that maintains some semblance of responsibility, seriousness, intellect and hard work.
Aarushi Aggarwal is in her third year in the Undergraduate Program at Ashoka University. She was a part of the 3rd House of Representatives and stood as an independent candidate.
Nineteenth-century painting by Philipp Foltz depicting the Athenian politician Pericles delivering his famous funeral oration in front of the Assembly (Source: Wikimedia Commons)
On 14th February, our university will enter into its 3rd annual celebration: the spectacle of democracy. From a pool of 1,100-odd students, we will elect 15 members who we deem fit to legislate the promises that they shall make to us over the next few days. A fresh, and hopefully responsible, House of Representatives (HoR) will carry forward the tradition set up by our very first undergraduate batch.
Elections are sacred rituals where the values of the community are inscribed onto the ballot paper by individual voters. As election season nears, we are all ready to mount the high horse of democracy. Yet, are we confident of the principles that uphold our system, or are we simply allowing a ‘cool’ idea to thrive, regardless of its utility to our needs?
This question begs serious attention for three reasons.
The first reason deals with the nature of Ashokan election. We see parties simply echo one other. If we analyze the manifestos of the parties in the previous election, we find that at no point do they really oppose each other. Admittedly, each issue is important and requires addressal. Yet, each party simply reiterates the same problem in their manifesto. Electoral rhetoric at Ashoka then becomes a contest over who can articulate the same points in the most elegant manner.
We are presently confronting some serious issues, among which is the dearth of a culture of liberal dialogue on this campus. Periodic and incessant fights on social media are the most telling symptom of this problem, thus creating a problem of superficial consideration of serious issues, undermining the exchange and discourse that are key to the democratic model.
As we grow from a tiny community into an institution, we are noticing how communitarian sentiments are gradually fading away. This reflects in the way a lot of people don’t come up to partake in responsibilities. Most of the work is done by a select few. The idea of this University now stands at a crucial juncture as we enter into the liminal space, leaving behind the initial euphoria. The culture that has been long cherished seems vulnerable.
Like many things Western that we at Ashoka emulate, we’ve also adopted the Proportional Representation system. We really need to rethink if election is the best instrument both to preserve the Ashoka culture and to open up new avenues of inclusivity, creativity, and freedom.
Historically, elections have never been conceived as a promissory note of equality. Rather, they were devised to create an aristocratic distinction between the ruler and the ruled. Thus, democracy is dispossessed of its very essence, with elections becoming the battlefield upon which different interests fight to establish their dominance.
Democracy proper, on the other hand, never had election. In the city of Athens, where democracy got its meaning, sortition was the rule of the game. It was randomized lottery rather than voting which would select those upon whom the responsibility of legislation would be bestowed. Office was not necessarily attractive. Rather, it was understood as a responsibility which must be equally shared by all citizens. Until this novel system was fettered and eclipsed by the discourse of ‘merit’ in the modern period, uncertainty used to rule over the anxiety of power. It balanced the perennial political question of legitimacy versus efficiency.
Interestingly enough, the term ‘ballot’ is derived from the Italian ballotte, which refers to the balls that were used in drawing lots. Thus, randomness was at the core of democracy, neutralizing any possibility of conflict. Everyone, in theory, would have an opportunity to speak sooner than later.
Replacing the House of Representatives (HoR) with an open assembly based on sortition (selection by drawing lots) can reinvent the camaraderie of sentiments that is gradually dissolving on this campus.
Five reasons lead us to believe so.
To be a member of the HoR, hardly any special knowledge or expertise is needed. One does not require a specialization to hold office. Except for the IT ministry, where some amount of technical knowledge is needed, so one practically does not have to be an ‘expert’ to represent their voice in the open assembly. The emphasis should be on representation, rather than getting articulate people to the fore.
This campus has a strong commitment to social justice which is shown in its celebration of diversity. Yet, the line between maintaining diversity and patronizing others must not be blurred. Lottery too can be an instrument to ensure diversity in the student assembly.
Each individual at Ashoka comes with baggage — a host of experiences and realities that cannot be appropriated or represented by anyone other than the individual herself. Be it issues such as mental health, or the aesthetics of our campus — each individual has a valid insight to offer. HoR members, with their attempts to bring collective interest to the fore, necessarily fail in representing the full spectrum of thoughts and ideas that can be conveyed by individuals. This becomes the most compelling reason for the system of sortition to replace elections. The Ashokan reality is determined by its experiences — it is only right that the people should speak for themselves. This goes beyond the current election: it is in lieu of shaping the way we view ourselves as a community that such individuality in decision-making is sought.
This establishes a culture of liberal dialogue. We will learn to listen to one another and confront serious issues. Nobody is left behind, by choice or otherwise. Everyone gets a chance to be heard — and not in the way each political party promises, by way of representing popular interest— but literally, since the onus is now on the individual. A large proportion of the student body still remains inert on this campus. Sortition might break that inertia to create an idiom of shared responsibility. Participation will revive trust.
Ashoka is a great place to experiment this system: our few numbers, drive for change, and empathy for issues makes this fertile grounds to revolutionize the process of decision-making. We might not lose much if we don’t have elections, yet there is a potential that we open up a plethora of new possibilities.
When we have a party which claims that it started as a joke, why shouldn’t we give this new system a chance? The “fear of the man on the street” has to be replaced with the yet unexplored possibilities of randomness, inclusivity and unprecedented participation. As Tocqueville puts it, “..to profit from society’s benefit, one must submit to its burden”. Office of responsibility should not be something to be fought over — rather it is something that must be equitably shared by all. That is what sortition aims at, and that is what we need.
Disclaimer: Both authors have been associated with Dhamma. Views are personal.
edict backup 